I spoke with Rita yesterday and she has had a hard week. Her aunt, who she very much loved, just died.  Her aunt went to Rio some forty years ago with the wave of Northeasterners who went South in search of work, and she stayed.  But she always returned to Salvador to visit the family, and she, with Rita’s mother, became Rita’s models for how a strong woman can lead her life: loving the men around her but not letting them control her, remaining independent at the same time connected to her family and community.  Rita said that this aunt was part of what made her who she is.

So, she flew down to Rio with one of her cousins to represent their family at the funeral.  Because she is so busy at Bahia Street, she flew down on Sunday and returned on Monday.  She arrived at Bahia Street to discover that a young man who has been helping for over a year on the building, a fellow everyone adored, was shot over the weekend.  It was over a DVD.  He and a neighbor had an argument over a DVD that both he and the neighbor thought was theirs, so the neighbor went into the street, found two assassins and hired them to shoot him.  They walked in, shot him and that was that.

Rita had spent much of the week trying to calm the girls and staff, while dealing with her own sadness over both the young man and her aunt.  It was hard to hear Rita, always so strong and positive, sounding almost bitter.  “It is as though we are insects, as though our lives are worth no more than a cockroach, that we can kill each other so easily without even thinking twice.”  She is also stressed because the mother of one of the girls died recently, and she is trying to stabilize a living situation for the child.  Also some of the girls’ homes were destroyed in the flooding a month ago—although Rita is grateful that no one was killed this year.  (Last year a mudslide caused by rain came down and crushed the sister of one of the girls beneath a wall.)

I worry about Rita’s health.  Not surprisingly she has high blood pressure and other effects of stress.  She eats carefully, drinks very little these days, does swim-aerobics, but she also has stressful situations daily.  I am pleased to say, however, that she is actually taking a two-week holiday in June, a space for regeneration that she does not do enough.

One of the reasons Rita can take a holiday is because over the last few years several young women have become leaders within Bahia Street to the point that they can support Rita and even run the Center for periods while she is gone.  Two are young women who have come through the Bahia Street program:  Michele is a former Bahia Street student who is working at Bahia Street while also attending university.  The other came while quite young to work in the kitchen.  Then, with Rita’s direction, she moved to directing the kitchen program, then moved to the administration office as she got her high school degree and learned how to use a computer.  Then, again with Bahia Street help, she finally passed her university exams (after three tries—she almost gave up, but Rita wouldn’t let her), and she is now working at Bahia Street in a leadership role while at the same time attending university.

Recently, Rita and the girls wrote an invitation to First lady Michelle Obama to visit Bahia Street if she comes to Salvador because the Obamas mean so much to them.  She sent me the letter she had written, asking me to translate it.  I would like to share just a bit of what Rita wrote.

In November of 2008, I went to New York to the United Nations, to receive the World of Children Award in recognition of the work of our project Bahia Street….  In 2009, I returned, to Washington, this time to receive the Ivy Humanitarian Award for “extraordinary work” in my involvement in helping young women of the Americas.  During this time, I also had the opportunity and honor to see the White House and was even happier to be allowed to visit it to see its interior rooms.  At that time, I thanked God that he had been so extraordinarily generous with me to permit me to see this place and to give me the understanding that in the fight for equality and recognition of our black people we had only just begun.  Indeed, I left with more strength to continue my work with our young women in Salvador.

It would be an honor for us to invite you to visit our project Bahia Street. I would love for you to see within our city the reality of the resistance of the population that is behind the political and social culture of Salvador, a resistance that has continued to manifest itself through our internationally-known traditional black culture in capoeira, candomblé and local foods.  I would be very honored for you to see our work, which is of great importance to the women of our city.

We are in a flurry of activity here in the Seattle, the Summer Beat event that everyone loved so much last year, is happening again June 11 (details are on our website: ) so I hope to see you there.  Also, for those who have not heard this incredible news yet, University of Washington Press (UWP) has accepted Dance Lest We All Fall Down for re-release (with an updated Afterword) to come out this October!  It has a new cover that echoes the old one.  A small group of people is now meeting to get the word out about Dance (if anyone would like to join, just email us), starting with a launch party in mid-October.  With this publication, Dance really has a chance because it can now be reviewed, sold in all major bookstores, be a focus of radio interviews—whatever to get the word out.  If any of you have ideas, I would love to hear them. You can pre-order it now, through UWP’s website and on Amazon.com.

We are in volatile times, both of the earth and economies.  But the violence, fear and destruction of inequality is like climate change; it can indeed destroy us all, but it is also something we can work to change—particularly if all of us—rich, poor, young, old, in whatever nation or state—work together.  This is what we are doing at Bahia Street, Rita, myself, you who are engaged through reading this letter and your other involvement, whatever it might be, the girls at the Center—all of us together across borders of difference, sending shoots that are growing into plants that can then become strong trees.  It is wonderful to be a part of this.  Thank you.

Abraços,
Margaret

Dear Friends,

Today shafts of gold slice frost-blue shade, crystalline winter, tentative warmth and bone-numbing chill. I have just come inside and my fingers are clumsy with cold.

Such a change from Bahia. I returned barely a week ago and I am still in that strange space that is neither in one place nor the other. In Bahia, the school year was ending, and the girls were preparing for their exams. I walked with Rita in the mornings as she bought vegetables from the local street vendors. With the help of Rotary, Bahia Street Center now has two freezers so Rita can buy the meat for the food program in bulk, a fantastic savings in both time and funds. But she buys the vegetables daily, and always from these local vendors who bring in their produce from the countryside and sell it on the streets from their wheeled carts. As we walked from cart to cart, the vendors called out to Rita, telling her about the special produce they had saved just for her. Rita says that buying from these vendors not only gives her the best vegetables, but also makes Bahia Street money work doubly, not only feeding the girls and other hungry members of their community, but also helping to support these vendors in their efforts to make an honorable if meager living.

On the final Saturday I was in Bahia, the girls gave an end-of-year performance at a local theater. I have been lucky enough to attend several of these performances over the years, yet they continually amaze me with their sophistication and quality. This year, the girls wrote, directed and performed two presentations. The first was a play that took some of the stories of the /orixas/, the saints of the African-Brazilian religion of Candomblé, and rewrote them from a distinctly feminist perspective. The female saints completely upstaged the male ones, putting them in their places in ways that caused the entire audience to nearly fall off their chairs in laughter. It was very funny, clever and powerful to all who watched. Then the girls preformed a hip-hop song and dance, words and lyrics written by two of the girls. It was beautiful! I asked particularly about the voice of one of the girls—it sounded professional to me. Rita smiled, “Yes, we’ve been encouraging her. I think we may have found a way to get her singing lessons.”

At the end of the performance, Rosana, the girl I wrote about in my last letter, got up—this is the girl who everyone thought was incapable of learning before she came to Bahia Street. She wrote much of the play and also played a central role. She giggled then began strutting across the stage, egged on by the other girls. “I am Black,” she chanted, “I am strong. I am smart. And we will change the world!” Then she was overcome with shyness and retreated to a group of her close friends while the other girls all cheered. She then reemerged, her face serious. “And who I have to thank for this is my mother and Bahia Street. Without either one, I would have nothing.”

Rosana, her sister and her mother live in the corner of an abandoned ancient fort. They have no sewage facilities; rats run along the cracks of the building, human and animal feces litter the area in front of their small space; not a home by any definition, just a corner in a ruined building. The mother sells water in a Styrofoam box in the streets to feed them. And at fourteen, Rosana has just passed her exams to enter high school.
Carol’s family thought she had a ‘weak head.’ The family—Carol, her mother, and sister—live in a borrowed space, rooms the government sometimes lets the most impoverished families use. Carol has emerged as one of the brightest girls at Bahia Street. She recently came to the Center complaining that a neighbor was standing beside the window, staring at her sister as she lay sleeping. Every day as she came out, the man was waiting nearby. Because of the Bahia Street’s sexual violence training and assertiveness classes, Carol knew that it was wrong, and that she and her sister could do something about what was clearly becoming an increasing danger. She reported him to the central police precinct and told Rita, who plans to confront the man. Carol understands that she can take legal action against the neighbor for stalking if he doesn’t leave, and that she can take steps in advance before the situation grows worse. This is entirely because of the recent sexual violence and assertiveness training that Bahia Street includes with all its educational programs.

I was in Brazil this time with a group of students from the University of Washington. These were ‘minority’ students (as defined by the University), immigrants or students who are the first people in their family to attend university. The group was a virtual United Nations with students from Vietnam, Ethiopia, Mexico, Argentina, as well as Native Americans. Several of the students have parents who are migrant workers, and most came from single parent households and were brought up in rough, poor neighborhoods. The idea of the course is to give these students a chance to meet others who have also struggled, who are non-white but who, because of the flukes of history, slavery and migration, ended up in Bahia instead of the United States. The students stayed with local Bahia students in a small town outside Salvador. For the U.S. students, the experience was jolting as they realized that, although they have been poor here and have struggled, there are others in the world whose conditions are much worse—and who are, like them, still struggling, studying and succeeding. The Brazilian students also had a revelation that the face of the United States also included these people who are so seldom represented in our media and promotions abroad.

And next week, Rita and Bahia Street are being presented with the Ivy Humanitarian Award, presented by the Brazilian Ambassador to the Organization of American States in Washington D.C. I feel very honored that Bahia Street’s work is being recognized in this way.

But as much as I appreciate such awards, I most appreciate the commitment and community of all of you. I am finishing this letter in the dark hour before dawn and reflecting on what a small group of dedicated people can do. We now have twelve girls in university, girls are going out into their public schools demanding change—and teachers are listening. Rita has set up an expanded computer lab and will be offering classes to community members; they are giving classes on sexuality, reproduction, violence prevention, health, literacy, numeracy and parenting to the caregivers of the girls and other community members. With the support we have received this year, the top floor of the Bahia Street Center has been closed and tiled in preparation for a science lab! And we are doing all this together. The US dollar isn’t going as far right now, but as yet we have not had to cut programs. Thank you for your help keeping Bahia Street strong.

As I glance out my window, I see the dawn has arrived.

Warmest hugs,
Margaret

Dr. Margaret Willson
Bahia Street International Director

Tuesday night I walked from my Central Area home to the peace vigil at the Federal Building. I left about 9:30 PM, carrying my pillow and foam pad for sitting. I had dressed in my warmest clothes.

Halfway down Jackson Street, I met two men, both also dressed warmly. One carried a bag over his shoulder.

”That’s great,” the taller one said, “you’ve got it down. Even a pillow.”

“Yeah,” said the other, a shorter, stockier man. “I wish I had a pad like that, it looks great.”

“It’s my backpacking gear,” I said. “Are you spending the entire night?’

“Yeah, I got some warm gear too,” the stockier one said, slapping his bag, “but it sure is heavy.”

“That’s a lot for just one night,” I said.

“One night? This is for three.”

“But this is the last night,” I said.

“Last night? What?’ The two looked startled and nervous.

Then we all looked at each other. “I think we’re going different places. You going to the First Avenue Service Center?”

“No,” I said, “I’m going to the vigil.”

“Oh, that’s those protester guys.” the taller fellow explained to his friend.

“What’s the First Avenue Service Center?” I asked.

The two proceeded to tell me that it was where one waits for a job call, done every morning at four-thirty. The stockier fellow said he had been working as a gardener for three years, but was homeless because he couldn’t afford to pay rent in Seattle. He’d lived in Bremerton for a couple of years and commuted, but then the ferries got too expensive, so he came to Seattle. He was sleeping on the streets and the Service Center until he could save up enough money to pay the first and last month’s rent required to get an apartment.

By the end of two blocks, we discovered we had friends in common.

“Enjoy your vigil!” the stocky fellow shouted as we parted at the bus stop.

“And stay warm,” I replied.

“Nice guys,” I thought as I continued on my way.

I wondered if we would have spoken if they had not initially believed that I, like them, was homeless, if instead, we would have exchanged guarded glances and kept barriers firmly in place.

Just then, I traversed Fourth Street. Crossing in the crosswalk with the light, I was nearly mowed down by a police car. He had apparently been waiting at the light, but had now put on his lights and was running the red light, bearing directly toward me at top speed. With my bad eyesight and because he was using no siren, I had not perceived him until nearly too late.

I leapt to the curb, heart pounding, completely unnerved. The police car had continued to aim itself directly at me, unswerving, as though the driver actually meant to hit me. As I stood on the curb, it sped out of sight.

As I recovered and began to walk again, I wondered at the police person’s motive. I had never encountered this kind of behavior before. Had he played his game of chicken because he thought I was a homeless person or because he thought I was a protester on my way to a peace vigil? Either way, the behavior was extremely disturbing.

“Hey there.” An older man with a grizzled, long beard greeted me as he prepared his bedroll in a doorway.

“He definitely thinks I’m homeless,” I thought. I smiled and nodded at him.

As I approached the vigil, the sense of peace was perceptible. Twenty or so bundled figures sat before candles in silence to one side of the Federal Building Plaza. A few apparently homeless people also inhabited the Plaza space, one of them muttering to himself.

One meditator quietly asked another if she would walk with her to the restrooms down by the ferry docks. Her voice carried a mixture of determination and fear. The other meditators sat, bundled in their blankets, most of whom had probably never spent a night in downtown Seattle before, certainly not outside. Then I watched the homeless people who had assuredly known many nights much the same as this one. I wondered how obvious it was to which group I belonged.

I laid out my pad and pillow, sat down. The sounds I heard were the wind, cars and the soft murmurs of the homeless man somewhere behind me, talking to his invisible friend.

These circles of communication revolve on an axis of ritualized phrases, patterns of call and response that reaffirm our position as a member of a community. They bring a stability we take for granted; it is only when the cadence of communication breaks that we notice, when we make a statement to someone for which we expect a certain response and we don’t get it. Much miscommunication between people of differing societies is perhaps related to differing speech rhythms that each takes for granted and then misunderstands.

Some years ago in London, a Brazilian boyfriend brought me a cup of tea while I was at home writing one day. He did this often for me. I looked up from my papers and smiled. “Thank you,” I said.

He turned quickly, said nothing.

“What’s wrong?” I said.

He looked at the opposite wall. “Why do you always push me away?”

“What?”

“You are so formal with me. I am your boyfriend. Why do you treat me like a stranger?”

“What?”

“Never mind.” He walked to the door.

“Wait a minute. Do you mean you are upset because I thanked you?”

Yes, he was. A verbal thanks, he said in our discussion that eventually followed, is what you do with strangers or acquaintances; not with your family, not with lovers. With those who are close to you, you are instead conscious of the balance that occurs when one person looks to the needs of another. Doing things for another person is how you show your love.

“Do you thank your lover for kissing you?” he asked. Thanking someone verbally for acts of love undermines them he said, gives them less meaning; one doesn’t say thank you, one returns love. To say thank you is to indicate that you want to finish the continuum between yourself and the other person: thank you is a form of release, and release is not what a lover wants.

I did not fully understand the distinction he was making at the time, but it set me thinking about US rituals of courtesy. In US society “thank you” is the appropriate response for everything from passing the salt to saving a person’s life. “Please” and “thank you” are fundamentals of social behavior. When a child asks for anything, the standard adult response is, “What do you say?” Then when the child gets what she wants, the adult says, “Now what do you say?” The training practices are as ritualized as the response.

I asked my English friend Jeremy for his opinion on thank you. As a member of the British upper class, I figured he would understand British etiquette and the meanings behind it.

“You do rather overuse your thank you,” he said. “Overused, thank you loses its energy, takes a superficial quality.  Something endemic of many parts of American speech I should say. Don’t you agree?” Thank you, according to Jeremy, is used when someone has done something for which you are truly grateful.

The other day in Seattle, a bus driver let me off at a downtown stop. “Thank you,” I said as I descended the stair.

“No problem,” he said.

As I walked down the street I realized I was smiling, made comfortable through rituals of courtesy that both the bus driver and I understood.

Then, later that day, I booked a reservation on the train.

“Thank you,” a computerized voice said.

I sat at my desk and thought about why a company would program its computer to say thank you to unknown customers. Through using this speech pattern, the company was creating an anthropomorphized machine that in manufactured tones of friendliness gave me constructed courtesy, a subtle and powerful manipulation makes the caller respond with an automatic positive emotion. Had I never known people different from myself and had the meanings behind speech patterns brought to my attention, I might never have noticed.

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful.

In our current world of mass information, where daily we receive an overwhelming barrage of unconnected detail, what makes a person real? Is it when we come to know them, see the pain of their vulnerability mixed with a joy of their success, when they become more than a figure or statistic? When someone finally loves them?

After hearing the quote, I found myself thinking about the ‘real’ and about one of the Bahia Street girls whom I shall call ‘Rosana’ (to protect her privacy).

Rosana is now a strong tall, blossoming young woman of about 14 or 15. I watched her when I visited the Bahia Street Center in Salvador in May as she shepherded the younger girls in place while they waited to play a game of capoeira. She made sure each was placed correctly, watching over the smallest girls, and smoothing the hair of others. I asked Rita about her.

“That’s Rosana,” Rita said. “Of course you’ve seen her before. She came to Bahia Street at least five years ago. She’s a remarkable girl.” Rita told me the history— that when Rosana’s mother was pregnant, she didn’t want the child so she tried to make her pregnancy fail. Her efforts made her sick, so she went to a public clinic, where they removed the very premature infant, treated the mother who survived the ordeal, and released her. The mother left the clinic, thinking the infant had died, but, remarkably, it survived. After a few months, the clinic returned the baby to her. The mother protested, saying her own child had died. This child was not hers and she didn’t want it. But the clinic left the child anyway. The mother, frustrated at being landed with this infant she did not want, gave her to some neighbors nearby. The neighbors took the baby girl, but they were also very poor and paid little attention to her. After some months, the mother’s mother, the child’s grandmother, heard about what happened to the infant and went looking for her. She found the child, now almost a year old, lying in a filthy wooden toolbox at the back of the dilapidated neighbor’s home. The child was covered with bugs and dirt, almost starved to death.

The grandmother took Rosana back home and began to care for her as best as she could over the protests of her daughter and her daughter’s other children who all did not want this extra child. The mother continued to insist that Rosana was not hers and refused to care for her. Rosana was left alone a lot, malnourished and beaten. Since she did not react much to outside stimulation and talked little, everyone considered her mentally retarded.

Finally, when Rosana was about eight or nine years old, her grandmother heard about Bahia Street and brought her to the Center, asking Rita if she could accept her into the program. So, despite the fact that Bahia Street had taken all the children it could for that year, Rita said she couldn’t refuse. “Rosana has two things in her life,” Rita said to me, “her grandmother and Bahia Street.”

Now after about five years, Rosana has grown. She is strong, intelligent and makes good grades in school. But equally impressive, she has become a caregiver and a leader among the girls younger than herself. She shows generosity, she brushes the younger girls’ hair, she braids it, and she makes sure that they are safe at school and not bullied by other girls. She nurtures them. She also bosses them around (much like Rita, I thought, since Rita bosses everyone around at the Center, fierce and caring at the same time).

I also thought of Camila, the girl whose father was assassinated some years ago. She is now in her final year of high school, getting good grades, and comes to Bahia Street often to help and mentor other girls. The university exam system in Brazil is changing this year, and instead of having a final standardized university entrance exam, students will be assessed on yearly standardized exams throughout high school. This makes Camila’s chances of getting into a good university next year very high.

The Bahia Street Center is now a five-story building. This year, Rita has installed banisters on all stairways, installed closed cupboards for food (to keep out cockroaches or rats), and added two more classrooms and a large set of lockers, one for each girl. Rita said some of the girls started to cry when they saw the lockers, saying the locker was the first private space they had ever known. The Center math teacher, an African Brazilian who himself grew up in the shantytowns, has recently been asked to teach at University because of his excellent teaching skills (he is also continuing at Bahia Street). The Center now feeds about 200 people a day in two meals including the 60 girls, the teachers, various caregivers who come in for food, and some community members who are hungry. Rita informed me that the mother of one girl who has run into hard times and was basically starving (her daughter was also very malnourished), has also been coming in daily. Now that she is stronger, she is beginning to sell items on the street to sustain herself.

May also brought a very special group of people to Brazil. Susie, who has been working as the Bahia Street Trust’s voluntary director for almost ten years, was finally able to go to the Bahia Street Center for the first time to see the program she had helped to create. At the end of the trip, the group had a final party at Rita’s apartment—making caiparinhas together—at which Rita and I both talked about how much these years of working together have meant to us. Rita said that she has always been reserved around foreigners, not opening up to them, so when she first met me that is how she reacted as well. But, in time, she began to realize that I believed in her, and that this belief continued over the years we worked together. “Most all foreigners,” she said, “When they come to Bahia to work on projects, they want to take over, to control it themselves. Over the years, as Margaret and I have worked together, she has never done that. She has believed in my ability to be a leader. And, in time, I have grown to believe in her as well. Over time, through Bahia Street, I have come to know that foreigners can treat us here with equality, that we can all work together. This has huge meaning for us all.”

“This is real Margaret,” Rita said to me. Maybe it hurts sometimes, as the Skin Horse said, but this world that connects us all is real. Thank you all for being a part of Bahia Street and for helping to make it possible.

I begin this letter in my kitchen in the soft predawn of a winter’s morning, a cup of tea beside the computer, feeling virtuous to be up at this secret hour before light has made the streets mundane. Really it is after seven, not so early, but these are the easy virtues of long winter nights, cheap but relished. I hear the intimate beat of rain melting sharp edges of sound. I sometimes think that those not born in the Northwest can only hate these winter weeks that never seem to get completely light, smugly confident that outsiders can’t understand how these days can give a close-held joy. But I am wrong on this (as usually happens with such uninformed judgments). A few months ago when I knew Rita would be coming to Seattle in November, I was worried. She had been here once before, a few years ago, but that was in early September and she had found even that cold.

“It will be cold and dark, Rita,” I warned her. “The trees bare, it rains all the time. I think you may not like it much.”

“Oh, Margaret,” Rita said. “Aren’t the dark days when people there drink hot chocolate, or wine, and talk? I am sure I’ll love it. I’ve always thought that I have never experienced ‘cozy’ in its full self. Now I have a chance, don’t I?”

So I resisted my Northern urge to fret about whether the Northwest would show itself at its best for Rita. She was fine while she was here-and every day she had a hot chocolate.

Rita, Nancy and I used the brief time Rita was here to work on budgets and plan strategy (at a time when many nonprofits are failing because of the world economic crisis, how can we secure Bahia Street?). Rita and I also found time to relax and talk. Sitting at this same kitchen table where I now write, Rita pulled out a piece of paper wrapped in a bright magenta cloth that appeared to bear an embroidered orange heart.

“Look at this,” she said. “It’s from Lourdes, one of the girls at Bahia Street.” Rita held the letter for a moment and then looked up. “When I first read it, I had tears in my eyes.”

“You still do,” I said.

Rita laughed and wiped away the moisture from her eyelashes. “Lourdes’ mother left her when she was small-her father was never around-so she ended up being brought up by her father’s mother. But the grandmother had never brought up a child before-God knows who brought up the father-and she has a temper. The grandmother uses drugs, and Lourdes was angry and hungry all the time. She was one who wouldn’t sit, lots of emotional problems, but,” Rita shook her head, “I guess I just can’t give up on these girls. She’s been with us some years now and, if you can believe it, she just graduated from the eighth grade and is getting ready to take her exams for escola tecnica (a good-quality high school where Bahia Street focuses on girls). Let’s hope for her. We’ll find out in January if she passed.”

“So,” Rita smoothed out the letter, “she gave this to me just before I left.
-

From Lourdes to Rita
You are a person who is unforgettable. In the beginning, I won’t lie, I didn’t much like you. You were very hard. But afterwards I saw that it wasn’t like that-just as the other girls told me. You are a great person, a solid friend, someone I can trust and a lot more. Sometimes you are a bit demanding. But you welcome everyone, give what is best to everyone. I hope I don’t lose contact with you or Bahia Street. I don’t want to leave Bahia Street, but the hour has come for me to give space for others. I know I won’t leave completely because every day I admire you and send lots of love.

P.S. You aren’t Camila’s (another one of the Bahia Street girls). You are mine!
P.P.S. ‘Friends are like wind,
Sometimes close
Sometimes far
But always in our hearts’
P.P.P.S. I go but with a nostalgia and missing you.

kisses,
Lourdes

Rita was here on a short side-trip from New York after being presented on November 13th with the prestigious World of Children Humanitarian Award at the UN for her work with Bahia Street. It is a delight so see Rita honored on the larger international stage after her years of work in Bahia.

I was not attending this award ceremony because I was in London where, of all auspicious coincidences, the Bahia Street Trust was holding, on the very same day, a Fine Wine Aid auction at Christie’s auction house to benefit Bahia Street. This event made ₤35,000.00 for Bahia Street (about US$50,000.00). The event was possible because of the dedication and connections of Bahia Street Trust Board Members Susie De Paolis and Alex Uxbridge, as well as Nick Coulson among others.

And in Seattle, Board Member Moshe Hecht and Jonathan Van Valin hosted their remarkable annual Thanksgiving Hoohah at Agua Verde (the space generously donated by the restaurant and the food by an anonymous donor). Fantastic food, good wine, fun company, great music, dancing, laughter and much raucous behavior… all to benefit Bahia Street.

Rita has gone back to Bahia now. When I rang her the other day, she said, over the shouting of girls, “It’s great-everyone here seems to have taken care of things well while I was gone.” They had their end-of-year party on December 3rd, and several of the girls going on to high school, including Lourdes, got up to say how much Bahia Street had changed their lives.

Rita also asked me to pass a message to everyone involved with Bahia Street here in the States and in Britain. “It has changed my world to know that so many people in countries that are so far from Bahia can care so much. Please send them my love.”

The dark has slid away and I see the beginnings of a watery reflection that could be the sun. It is time for me to pull out my bike and head for the office. This is our end-of-year letter asking for your support and donations. I know we are asking at an uneasy time; for many of you who have been so generous, you may have to donate less, or perhaps not at all this year. Whatever you feel you can afford, it means a great deal that you share what you have with Bahia Street. We will make sure that it is spent wisely and is stretched far. To all of you, I send my warmest thoughts.

Abraços,
Margaret

Happy summer! The sun has finally arrived in the Pacific Northwest, and we are beginning to enjoy the warmth that comes after many months of cold.

In our Seattle office, we are incredibly busy. With current Brazilian inflation and the weak U.S. dollar, we have to send four times as much money to Rita in Bahia to maintain the same level of support. Rita says that in Salvador, she is seeing one local nonprofit after another falter and fail because of the downturn in the U.S. and global economy. Bahia Street, however, is maintaining its operations– largely because of you. A few years ago, Nancy and I also started developing educational programs here in the States, first Bahia study trips, and more recently programs with students at the University of Washington. Our aim is that these educational programs not only teach Americans about global inequality and issues of poverty as related to Brazil, but also will eventually pay for our administrative costs in the States so that anyone’s entire donation goes entirely to Brazil. We have already been successful enough in this venture that currently about ninety percent of all donations go directly to Brazil. These educational programs also pay for my trips to Bahia so Rita and I can plan and connect. And indeed, a study group of twelve was in Bahia in May at the same time that I was teaching a group of twenty-eight University of Washington students. It was exciting and lots of fun to meet all the interesting people of the study group and to get to know and teach some remarkable young people among the students.

Although our trips to Bahia were very successful, the situation in Salvador is rather grim. Rita feels that the poor are getting poorer and that the hunger in Salvador is worse than ever this year. We read regularly in our papers here about the global food crisis—in Salvador, where so many people live on the margins of survival, it is tipping some of them into the abyss. A kilo of beans in Salvador now costs eight reais; bus fare, per single ride, is two reais. About eighty percent of Salvador’s population make four hundred reais or less a month. Of this they will spend at least eighty in transport to and from work. Rita says the girls eat everything she can give them, and that she continually has to slow them as they eat too fast and get sick. More and more are saying they get no food at all at home. Looking at the girls, the effects of this near-starvation were clear: the first year girls who have only been at Bahia Street a few months are small and look twisted, often with sores on their skin, and they are inattentive in class. The second-year girls are taller and running around, but they are still painfully skinny with every bone visible. Then the girls who have been with Bahia Street a few years–they are tall, jumping around, look strong and healthy, and are able to handle the rigor of learning at a pace on par with some of the best private schools in the city. Bahia Street is feeding the girls twice a day, and the difference of the food alone is much more marked than I ever remember it being in the past.

Perhaps because of the food crisis and its impact on the poor, the new girls this year have come in with more problems than usual. They are more angry and disturbed than girls in the past have been, and Rita says it is the most difficult group she has ever had. For awhile she was ready to expel the entire group, but she has been working intensively with their caregivers and working with their teachers to get the girls to play games that teach them how to read while they gain basic social behavior. Bahia Street now also has a very good psychologist who comes once or twice a week for private sessions with the girls, and this seems to be helping a great deal. And at least these girls are eating, and that alone is helping them to calm them. We have every reason to think at this point that they will be able to stay and grow within our program.

I am sad to report (for us) that our curriculum director Fio has left Salvador to take care of his elderly parents in his native town to the south. His parents gain, but it has left Rita very alone. She has some good assistance with four young women who are taking over various tasks that Fio oversaw before, but not the companionship she had with him. We will miss Fio, and I am focused now on providing Rita all of the moral support that she needs to run the Center in Fio’s absence.

The older girls on the whole continue to do very well, passing their exams and helping with the younger children. Sadly, the youth orchestra group for the girl who is so remarkably good at the violin has been canceled so she has had to stop. This is one area we would love to explore…finding funding to buy classical instruments for girls as several have shown an aptitude, and learning to play gives them a structuring discipline that helps them with their studies.

Both Rita and I continue to be impressed with Julia, an impoverished young woman who Rita hired to work at the Center several years ago. Not able to live with her family, Julia lives in a one-room shack with another girl and runs all of the day-to-day administration of the Center. With Bahia Street’s support, she has finished high school and is now studying for the Vestibular, paid for by Bahia Street. In fact, there are several Bahia Street staff members who use the Center as a place to study for the Vestibular, making use of Bahia Street’s computer room featuring six networked computers. Bahia Street continues to touch the lives of many more people than the sixty girls that it directly serves.

Also amazing is the continuing work on the reconstruction of the building. The January volunteer work party worked with Fio and Rita to paint more of the rooms wonderful bright murals and colors. The reception/administrative room has been expanded (they used to work within a space the size of a cubicle!) with a space broken through the back wall to allow ventilation. The library has been wired and now provides students with a comfortable place to read. The kitchen is now airy and, although still not large, provides space and storage for the feeding of the about eighty people it serves now twice a day (this includes staff, and there always seem to be a few caregivers from the community who also need to be fed.). On the downside, rain is still getting in the roof area and rats are getting in. The building next door has been abandoned and is breeding rats. Small ones are creeping in the roof, and larger ones come up from the ground. Rita and her staff are currently putting out rat poison every two weeks—over the weekends so no children come in at any time while it is out. This situation is also indicative of the deterioration of the general infrastructure of Salvador. We are fortunate, however, to have received a very generous donation from a study trip participant to address some of the most pressing needs of the building—from closing off the roof to installing railings on the stairs— and we continue to write grants to finish it completely.

Here in the States, I am incredibly pleased to report that my recent book (Dance Lest We All Fall Down) has been selling well. The Seattle library system, which originally bought four books, has, because of demand, now bought four more. It was also just awarded a Silver Medal for Multicultural Nonfiction in the annual Independent Book Awards. And, for me, it has been wonderful meeting people who are reading the book, being invited to speak at book clubs and or gatherings. I am learning from other’s insights as they read, resulting in a wonderful exchange. If anyone would like to invite me to speak about the book or have it as a part of their book club, I would be delighted to participate.

So, this letter is a mixed one I am afraid, but that is the reality of our world. Bahia Street is a part of the struggle, and the path will not always be smooth. We must cherish our successes and be strong for each other, extending that strength beyond countries and continents, to those who touch us throughout the globe. I send you my warmest thoughts on this equally warm summer’s day and hope that sometime during this day you will have a moment–a color, watching a bird pass, a pure sound, laugher with a friend–of pure joy.

Abraços,
Margaret

I am watching the sun peek out between the clouds as I write this and think of all the other times I have written to you. Years have passed, the seasons come and gone, and still this connection continues. I still feel as though I am writing to you each individually, and it means a lot.

I think this particularly now because I have finally finished the book that I have been writing about Bahia Street (I have been working on this for over four years now!). The book is about the people who inspired and taught me in Bahia, and about the community of you here and in other parts of the world who have accompanied Rita and me on this journey. I have rewritten this book in its entirety at least four times, but now, with the help of many people, it is finished at last. The publisher tells us that it will be out in November! I can hardly believe it. To all of you who have supported Bahia Street and who have seen it grow, our struggles and successes— I thank you. This book is about all of us. The title of the book is Dance Lest We All Fall Down, a reflection of a lesson my friends from the favelas of Bahia taught me, that strength comes with the dance we must all do if we are to survive, that we must find our joy. Joy makes us strong, the dance of joy comes through understanding how we can give to others, and that all of us have something to give.

The book will be in paperback to make it more affordable, and we will be letting you know in November when we actually have the first copy in our hot little hands. In the meanwhile, we are taking pre-orders for books: simply email us at info@bahiastreet.org with your name and the number of books that you would like (you may pay once they arrive.). Each book will cost roughly $20 (in the U.S.) with shipping and handling. Outside of the U.S., the book is best available on-line with the publisher in November.

I have read (in translation) the entire manuscript to Rita, and she is as excited as I am. This book starts a conversation, and I can’t wait to hear from you. So do please let me know thoughts that the book sparks in you, what paths it opens, and where it takes you.

Things at Bahia Street in Salvador are going very well. The capoeira program has been a huge success, and many girls are now doing cartwheels, handstands, and flips. They love it. What they are doing is also exciting because, in Bahia, women do not often do this kind of strong exercise that takes a certain risk and confidence. In Bahia Street, we are seeing an entire group of girls all grow in their capoeira skill together. It will be interesting to see how they develop in this art as the years go by.

Several girls are studying for their eighth grade exam to enter high school, and two girls, Luana and Flavia, who started first grade this year completely illiterate with no study skills or even a concept of how to behave in a classroom situation, have done more than just learn to read and write in these short months: they are both racing to be top of their class. Again it will be interesting to see how they both do over the years.

Another girl, Jessica, has always shown an interest in music, and during a capoeira class last year, a visitor introduced her to the violin. She took to it immediately, showing surprising talent, had this person began giving her lessons. Her skill on the instrument grew much faster than anyone could have imagined. Now, she has just taken a test on the violin and been admitted to a violin course at the Teatro de Castro Alves, the principle music theater in Salvador. An incredible achievement on her part. She will continue to study at Bahia Street, of course, so we will get to see what happens as she studies with some of the best musicians in the area.

Being part of these girls’ often astonishing achievements and their trials is one of the parts of Bahia Street that is so exciting. Because we stay with the girls for so long, accompany them through their years at Bahia Street and continue to give them support as they enter university, we get to see the effects of the program and the girls’ increasing engagement with what the world has to offer. This is a privilege, and I continue to be amazed at what these girls do.

From the States, we successfully partnered this summer with the
University of Washington Department of Chemistry’s Dr. Richard Gammon to bring twenty-two students to Bahia as a part of a course to study climate change, inequality, and the society of Brazil. I look forward to co-teaching a class next spring geared toward students who are the first people in their families to attend university or who are recent immigrants, to study about inequality, social change, and race, class, and gender in Brazil. The course, a partnership between Bahia Street, the Office of Minority Affairs and the UW Jackson School, will spend four weeks in Seattle at the University of Washington and six weeks in Brazil.

These programs are possible in part because of our new building that gives space for us to teach classes while the students are not in class. It represents our expanded mission to teach girls in Bahia that allows them equal opportunities and to teach people here about the realities of inequality as it exists in Brazil. One way that we fulfill the second part of this mission is through our study trips. I greatly enjoyed our June 2007 trip, with a special thanks to Aleixo Dejneka for joining me in leading this group. Our 5th annual study trip will take place May 23-June 3, 2008, and we have another exciting and thought-provoking tour planned. Join us! Bahia Street is a true partnership that provides space for all of us to learn.

My very best to you all, and I will let you know when the book is out!

Abraços,
Margaret

It has been too long since you received news from Bahia Street, perhaps because so much has been going on both here and in Salvador. Before we slow down for the summer, I wanted to take a moment to share with you what is happening at the Bahia Street Center and with Bahia Street outside of Brazil.

Rita and I were discussing the start of the school year in March, and Rita noted that she now had more girls than ever before, putting a strain on the budget and building, and generally straining the energy level of the school. Then she told me that she had enrolled 61 girls! When I asked about the number, Rita exclaimed that she simply couldn’t turn the additional girls away. “You’re not the one having to turn them away!” she said to me. So many more girls are now being referred to the Center than we could ever possibly accommodate. The fact that the building reconstruction is essentially completed allows more of the space to be used to benefit these additional students.

The students are now able to learn capoeira at the Center in part because of the additional space we have, but also because of continuing support of /Grupo de Capoeira Senzala Seattle/. They raised another $5,000 at the second annual “Rites of Change” performance event in Seattle, which will fund uniforms, instruments, and the teacher for this school year. Rita was fortunate to be able to hire a female capoeira master, Linda, who comes from a similar background as the girls. She gives the girls yet another role model to hers who transcends the debilitating effects of poverty. It is revolutionary to have a female capoeira instructor given the historically male dominance of capoeira in Brazil. The program promotes physical health, strength in self defense, and pride in their African-Brazilian heritage. Every girl who is physically able plays capoeira now at the Center.

With more girls and new programs, we are working on ways to support the Center beyond raising funds. In late fall 2006, we began the library project based on Rita’s expressed need for books to fill the library at the Center. Brazil is notorious for its lack of libraries that serve the poor, which coupled with the relatively high cost of books, is indicative of the low literacy rates for Brazil’s poor. Bahia Street did not have the funds to fill the library, so we began looking for opportunities to receive donated books for the Center. Our first grant came from Alibris, which awarded Bahia Street $1,000 to buy English language books. With this money, we bought easy readers and ESL texts to support our volunteer ESL program. Other books continue to arrive from Alibris’ Donate-A-Book program (http://www.alibris.com/wish/donate-a-book.cfm). On the Portuguese language side, I have been working closely with Bloomsbury Publishing Company editorial director Sarah Odedina in securing donations from Brazilian publishers, such as Companhia das Letras and Editora Rocco, among others. Additionally, Seattle volunteer Melanie Wyffels lined up language kits from Yazigi language centers.

Just when we thought that we were wrapping up the library project, the phone rang. Dr. Mitchell Davis learned about Bahia Street through Alibris. He called the office and asked how to buy 500 books for the school, offering $2,500 to fund Portuguese language books in Salvador. Dr. Davis has a strong interest in health and nutrition and inquired about the Center’s nutrition program. Learning that we can provide the only meal a day that the girls usually receive, he offered funds for a second meal as well. Dr. Davis sent $15,000 last month, one of the largest individual donations ever received by Bahia Street. Dr. Davis told Nancy that one of the reasons he supports Bahia Street is because it is a small organization where a donation of this size has a significant impact on the lives of the people being served. His generosity also demonstrates the power of the Internet for small non-profits to connect with a community of people beyond our hubs of activity.

Increasingly, we are working on projects that extend our experiences with poverty, race, and international development into different disciplines. One such project is our partnership with the University of Washington Department of Chemistry, which is running an “Exploration Seminar” to Salvador in August 2007. Led by Dr. Richard Gammon, “Chemistry, Climate Change, and Culture” will focus on the science, public policy, and social justice issues surrounding the topic of global warming and climate change. Bahia Street is a key partner in the project because a knowledge of local culture is critical in the implementation of climate change solutions, and many of the people most affected by climate change are the rural and urban poor: shantytown residents, fishermen, and subsistence farmers. Students will be visiting the Bahia Street Center, having homestays with university students in Santo Antonio de Jesus, and meeting local people in Arembepe, a fishing village north of Salvador.

And finally, a few activities to mark on your calendar! Bahia Street will have a table at the *All Nations Cup* soccer event during the weekend of *July 21 and 22* at Fort Dent Park in Tukwila. We will also have a table at *Brasilfest* on *August 19* at Seattle Center. Please email info@bahiastreet.org for volunteer opportunities—there will be many!

This gives you a taste of all that is going on. While this means that we are very busy, it is exciting to see our programs energize others to work for change in Brazil and beyond. This past week, we participated in a program about international NGO management—an event organized by our present interns—and we were struck by the poise, thoughtfulness, and sense of activism of our former interns serving on the event’s panel. Bahia Street inspired each of them in a different way, and they in turn inspire us to broaden our educational programs outside of Brazil. I feel surrounded now by the growth, the energy, and the dynamic force that Bahia Street has become. You and all involved with Bahia Street have made this possible. And we are standing on the verge of so much more. It is exciting. We can all be delighted and proud of this in our lives.

Happy summer and laughter,

Margaret
–
Dr. Margaret Willson
International Director